


Three (And Then Some)

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Baking, But Also Maybe True, Domestic Fluff, Food Fight, Gaming, Other, Pie, Shipping Roulette, The Relationship Groupings Are A Lie, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, we just don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:19:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: Apple pie should be analyzed as a potential proponent for world peace, ugly sweaters can make anyone look goofy, and kissing under the mistletoe is only fun when it's on fire.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).



> I wrote this riding on the high of finally graduating from college. I know the sections are smaller and more scattered than they were in _[Holiday, Holinights](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8650411)_ , but hopefully it still makes sense? It's unbeta'd (as per usual) so please keep that in mind!
> 
> Also, the title's a pi (π) joke! And (maybe) an allusion to polyamory! Get it? ... It would've been funnier on March 14th.
> 
> As always, please be sure to send [surfacage](http://www.surfacage.net/) all your love and support! ❤

“Blanche, darling, if you’re that cold just say so! I’ll even lend you my jacket if you ask nicely.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Right. And what shade exactly are you wearing today - Coral Blue #2 Semi-Gloss Lipstick?”

Blanche shot her a venomous glare and tucked their chin further into their scarf as another gust of wind blew down the street, their long pale hair fluttering out behind them as they trudged stubbornly on. So what if they couldn’t feel their ears? Maybe soon they’d lose the ability to hear Candela nagging them.

They blew out a steamy breath. Ah, to hope for such miracles was a foolish endeavor. They halted when Candela suddenly grabbed them by the arm, spinning them to the side.

“Hey, wait a minute! I think that gym over there is an _awful_ shade of yellow.”

They blinked, frowning as they followed the line of her arm toward where she was pointing.

“Ah, a rarity. Make a wish, Candela.”

“Wishes never get you anywhere in life, darling,” Candela hummed, eyes bright. “Wait here while I change that to a more suitable color, would you?”

“Brute,” they grumbled, snorting derisively as Team Valor’s leader all but sprinted down an alley toward the Instinct gym. Honestly, it was a quaint sight: the arched symbol at the top glittering a cheerful golden glow against an ashen sky. The color was fairly rare in other parts of the city - red and blue changing hands so quickly the horizon sometimes was tinted purple - but the ones in this little nook seemed to be firmly in the hands of Team Instinct.

Blanche fished their phone out of their pocket, frowning at how the cold made their fingers fumble, and opened a few apps to pass the time. Maybe answer a few texts and emails…

They glanced at the gym again and huffed, hitting ‘send’ without a second thought.

Spark’s team was smaller than Mystic and Valor (a given since they’d had their leader for less time) but the members admittedly worked just as hard as those on the other two teams. It’s just their efforts lay with hatching eggs instead of battling - and, unfortunately, gyms just so happened to be the most visible display of team power.

Honestly, if not for their need of sponsors (and Candela’s insufferable goading), Mystic would likely be in the same boat. Evolution didn’t necessitate battling as was previously thought. There were other ways of going about it - building a rapport with a given Trainer boosted some species’ chances of evolution in a far greater degree than constant fighting, for example.

Battling did, however, expedite the process significantly for bonding and experience both.

They blinked as the distant gym suddenly changed, the golden glow fading to a dull grey. Just as quickly it lit back up, a vibrant red beacon shining defiantly along the horizon and completely at odds with the surrounding other yellow gyms that were too far away to be claimed while enroute to Spark’s apartment.

An unapologetic rose among unassuming daffodils.

Candela trotted up to them soon after, smugly triumphant.

“There, much better! Red is the perfect color, don’t you agree?”

Blanche’s phone buzzed in their hand, a smile twitching on their lips as they checked their messages.

“Is it?” they asked innocently, glancing back at the gym.

Candela frowned and followed their gaze, cursing when the red was turned back to grey and then immediately into a majestic azure. She sent them a poisonous glare.

“You little shit. Calling for backup is _cheating_!”

“Come now, Candela,” they said smoothly, looping an arm through hers and tugging them both along so she couldn’t turn heel and retake the gym, “We can’t keep Spark waiting.”

\---

“Spark, do you need me to take out the trash for you? It’s blocking the entryway!”

“Shut the fuck up, Valor. I didn’t know you’d be coming. If I had, I’d-”

“Not my problem you’re underprepared, Rocket.”

“You know, you’re really lucky that Spark just had this door replaced - otherwise, I’d bash your fucking face with it.”

“Aw, it’s cute how you try to threaten me.”

“You wouldn’t be so smug if you saw all your cheap-ass makeup smeared across the wood.”

“... Still waiting for an answer about taking out the trash, Spark!”

“Geeze, chill out you two,” Spark voice filtered out from the kitchen down the hall, the aroma of cinnamon and apples and other baking smells almost overpowering even from this distance, “Noire, quit being an asshole and let them in.”

“You heard the man! Chop chop!” Candela cooed, scoffing and rolling her eyes when Noire just took up more of the doorway. “Real mature, Rocket.”

“Being ‘mature’ is your shtick, Valor, not mine!” they sneered, green eyes brilliant under the honey-colored hall light. “And you’re not even good at it!”

“Oh for the love of- Blanche, let’s just go. We don’t need to deal with-”

She and Noire both blinked in surprise when Blanche shouldered past their twin, making their way down the hall and tossing their shoes onto the shoe-rack with practiced ease. They paused when neither of them followed, glancing back over their shoulder and raising a brow at their doubtlessly matching expressions of bewilderment.

“I want pie,” they said simply before turning back and continuing further into the apartment.

\---

“Alrighty, Eeveelutions out!”

Blanche sighed, their Vaporeon shaking and beginning to groom himself as soon as he emerged from his ball. “I don’t really see the point in this. They’re all the same species and of agreeable temperaments. He won’t be in any danger.”

“Yeah, but this is the first time they’ll _all_ be together when he’s around,” Spark said, balancing a squirmy Dumpling in his hand and trying to fend off an eager Donglord, “He’s still pretty much a baby by comparison. Plus, he’s _tiny!_ ”

They looked over to Candela for support, huffing when all she did was shrug, running her fingers through her Flareon’s fur with obvious pride. They both had just come from a tough set of back-to-back battles (not including her attempted takeover of the gym on their way here), remaining gloriously victorious despite the hardships. Perhaps a bit of a preening was warranted.

Though, of course, the smugness she exuded could just be for Noire’s benefit - wasted as it currently was.

Their twin stood near Spark, eyes starry as they looked up at the little silver kit, petting the Eevee snuggled in their arms with affectionate but distracted fingers. If she was offended by taking a back seat in terms of her trainer’s attention, she didn’t show it, brown tail flicking idly over the side of Noire’s forearm. This placidity was surprising, given her usual-

“Ah, wait Dumpling! Don’t-”

Dumpling managed to free himself from Spark’s grasp and leapt onto Noire, misjudging the distance slightly and having to crawl up their arm to perch on their shoulder. Their Eevee squeaked, scrambling across their trainer’s chest to try and bat at him. He was surprisingly able to dodge the blow, but turned when he’d settled near Noire’s neck and chittered at her indignantly.

She squirmed out of their arms, chasing him down Noire’s leg and to the floor, nearly running into the wall when Dumpling suddenly changed course and made for Spark’s bedroom. Flareon darted after them, tail fluffed and almost aglow. Donglord yipped excitedly, bristles sparking as he, too, chased the others out of the living room.

There was the sound of a small crash, squeaks and chirps adding a chorus to the scramble of paws. Vaporeon just sighed, shaking himself again and trotting after them, his tail flicking in lukewarm amusement.

Spark took a deep breath, hands on his hips. “Well,” he said slowly, glancing at his equally shellshocked guests, “that didn’t go as planned.”

\---

Blanche grunted when a blanket was suddenly thrown on top of them, fingers twitching on their tablet in surprise and annoyance. “ _Why?_ ” they growled, lifting it off their head to glare at Spark as he settled down on the ground in front of them.

“You’re cold, right? You’ve tucked your feet under you like you are, anyway,” he said, blinking up at them innocently.

“I’m _always_ cold, Spark.”

“Oh, right.”

“Aw, scoot closer, darling. I’ll get you nice and warm!” Candela cooed, fluttering her eyelashes at them from across the couch and draping an arm across the back as an invitation.

Noire made gagging noises from their position on the floor in front of her and she kicked them in the ribs. They looked ready to climb on top of her and start something (and she seemed more than ready to receive them in her lap), but a combined glare from Spark (and/or Zapdos) and Blanche kept them in line.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Blanche replied, arranging the surprisingly thick blanket around themselves. The bright yellow and venomous green pattern told them it was one of Spark’s creations. The weave was fairly decent, too, so it must’ve been finished recently - perhaps even earlier that day.

The thought made them smile.

“Alright, so, because a couple of Pichus were very curious and found my gaming stuff last week, I only have two working controllers right now. Teams work?” Spark said, grinning when the others made noises of varying levels of consent, “Awesome! Blanche is with me.”

“What? No! Why the fuck am I on Valor’s team?!”

“For once we’re in agreement. I don’t much care for this arrangement, Spark. _You_ can take the overgrown toddler.”

“If anything’s overgrown here, Valor, it’s your _ass_.”

“Or _your_ ego.”

"Ha! You say that like it's supposed to offend me!"

"Well, _normal_ people would-"

“Hey! My house, my rules!” Spark broke in, a lazy, self-confident smile on his lips, “Besides, having Blanche on my team is, like, the biggest handicap I could give myself. You two just might stand a chance now!”

“I’ll remember that next time we’re playing Monopoly,” Blanche grumbled, glaring at him when he tilted his head back to grin at them. “I don’t even really want to play - Annie sent me another couple of reports that I need to read over before it gets too late.”

“Aw, bummer!” He pouted for a moment before nodding amicably. “That’s fine. You’re in charge of smacktalk, though.”

“Oh, worried you won’t be able to handle the combined verbal might of Team Hot Mess by yourself?” they said, lips twitching when the other two made matching, strangled noises of indignation.

“‘Team Hot Mess’... _really_ , darling?” Candela scoffed, “Still, I agree with you. Your twin _is_ a mess - a big, salty, maladjusted mess.”

“Excuse you, _I’m_ the hot one! And if anyone’s a mess here, it’s you!”

“Yeah, right. In case you’ve forgotten, fire is sort of my _thing_ , Rocket.” Her eyes flashed crimson, smile jagged at the edges as she stared down at their twin. Blanche flinched away from her instinctively, swallowing back a breath would’ve doubtlessly come out steamy despite the warmth of the apartment.

Control was still difficult, much to their continued chagrin.

“Tell you what,” Spark drawled, blue eyes briefly gold, shaking the extra controller between them to break up the battle of wills, “Whoever beats me gets to be the hot one!”

\---

The oven alarm sounded and Spark groaned.

“The pies!” he hissed, obviously agonized, thumbs dancing over his controller like a concert pianist on the keys of their personal instrument. “Of all the times- Ah, fuck you, you ass!”

Noire, by comparison, was pulling ahead through sheer button-smashing prowess, their tongue sticking out between their lips and their brows furrowed with concentration. It had taken several consecutively intense rounds, a brief, severely contested stint on Rainbow Road, and just general tomfoolery for them to wear down Spark’s gaming abilities to the point they had a chance to beat him.

Blanche was almost impressed he’d lasted this long without switching out. Their tablet sat on the side table, reports long-since read and evaluated. Their fingers itched to play with the blonde strands that rose to about their knee, intrigued by their soft spikeyness, but didn’t dare try for fear of distracting him.

“You’ve almost got him, Rocket. Don’t you _dare_ let him take the lead again!” Candela said, leaning forward eagerly, her hazel eyes gleaming. Her fingers twitched on the couch’s armrest, motions matching Noire’s own with surprising accuracy. She could smell a long-awaited victory, proxied as it might be, and she didn’t seem keen on letting it go.

“Keep your shirt on, Valor. This win is in the ba- AGH, shit!”

Spark leapt up while Noire floundered and waited impatiently to be returned back to the track, pressing his controller into Blanche’s hands. “Last lap! You can do it!” he said quickly, bolting out of the room and down the hall.

Blanche made a face, unsure.

Noire and AIs easily overtook them as they struggled to remember the controls, their position falling down to the middle of the pack in a matter of seconds. “I don’t suppose you’ll be taking it easy on me out of respect for the emergency swapping?” they asked tartly, taking a secondary route to gain back some speed.

“ _He_ certainly didn’t when my thumb cramped!” Candela replied, wiggling the digit at them smugly.

Noire snorted, tension easing of their shoulders due to their assured lead. “How’s my dust taste, _mon petit chou_?” they crooned, grinning when Blanche sent them a dirty glare. While it was nice to see them so genuinely relaxed, aggravation with the situation kept them from fully enjoying such a rare occurrence.

The vengeful teasing lasted for about as long as it took for Blanche to make it to an item box.

“Spark,” they called, a grin splitting their face at the disbelieving looks of horror on the other two’s faces, “What’s the button to use an item, again?”

“X!” he hollered back. “Why? What’d you get?”

“Blue shell!”

Cackling emanated from the kitchen.

“D-Darling, let’s not be rash!”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Blanche!”

They studied Noire and Candela for a moment, the finish line appearing on Noire’s split view of the screen. Their thumb hit the button without a trace of remorse, Team Hot Mess’ shrieks of woe and frustration sounding like music to their ears.

“Oops.”

\---

“Holy shit, birdbrain. Did you just serve us each an entire _quarter_ of pie?!”

“Are you complaining, Noire?” Spark asked, quirking a brow, shoving a forkful into his mouth.

“As if! Just worried about Valor not being able to fit into her dresses after this.” they scoffed, rolling their eyes as they poked at the golden brown crust. The apples were still slightly crisp - perks of cutting up fresh ones instead of just using pre-made filling from a can (no judgement for the lazy, though) - the cinnamon-nutmeg glaze dripping out the edges thick as molasses. The smell was absolutely divine and they felt their mouth begin to water.

They would definitely be stealing this recipe from him later.

“Aw, I’m positively touched by your concern! But that’s not something you need to use _all two_ of your braincells pondering over.”

They elbowed her in the shin, ignoring how their arm complained in favor of relishing in the pained grunt they managed to draw from her. Spark scoffed and squeezed some aerosol cool whip out onto his pie from the can before handing it to them.

Noire used it with a gleeful, greedy abandon.

“Uh, buddy? Maybe want to leave a little for the rest of the group?”

“Nah.”

“You’re one to be warning of increasing waistlines, Rocket,” Candela huffed, holding out her hand for the can, “Here, let me save you from yourself.”

For once, she even seemed sincere.

They looked her straight in the eyes and sprayed more cool whip directly into their mouth.

A hand flashed out, gripping their jaw harshly and tilting their head at an uncomfortable angle. Lips met theirs, a tongue invading their mouth to steal some of the cool whip, cheekily flicking against their own tongue. Teeth nipped their bottom lip, stinging sweetly, before retreating with a sigh that smelled and tasted of ozone.

Noire suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Spark sat back with a pleased grin, wiping his own bottom lip with his thumb. Blanche’s fork was on the ground, mouth open slightly, their expression as torn between shock and disgust as Noire’s own. Candela watched them both with hungry, burning eyes, hand still outstretched with the fingers curling slightly in surprise.

“Well,” Spark rumbled, eyes gleaming gold, “Go on and share, Noire.”

They shoved the cool whip can at Candela unthinkingly, viciously ignoring the double entendre that could’ve been construed from the statement. They tried to mask how much their hands wanted to tremble by wiping at their mouth, pissed off by the fact their lips continued to tingle.

Candela stared down at them, glancing at the can now in her grasp thoughtfully. Blanche blinked, swallowing harshly before picking up their fallen fork, grimacing and getting up to doubtlessly go to the kitchen and get a replacement.

Spark snorted and went back to eating his pie, eyes fading back to their normal blue.

\---

“Darling, you have a bit of, um, _something_ on your chin.” Candela said, squinting at it with a speculative frown, “I think it’s a chunk of apple?” She reached out a hand to try and brush it off.

“No, don't!” he said, leaning away from her, “I’m saving it for later!”

"Later?"

"Yeah, it's my stash! Like, for winter?"

“Really.” She struggled to keep a straight face, closing her eyes and sucking in a quick breath. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but winter is already here and using up all your hot water.”

“Oh, right… Must be nice to be the ‘winners’ in a food fight, huh?”

“Well, I certainly feel like I’ve lost _something,_  looking at all of this.”

They both took a moment to survey the damage.

Cool whip was smeared on the floor, the ceiling, and basically everywhere in between. Crumbs stuck to the carpet and exploded back onto the couch, doubtlessly lodged in the frame by now. Frosty handprints still stood out on the table, glittering on the couch cushions.

Worse still was the impact to their clothing. Even if the stains could be scrubbed out, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get the smell of cinnamon and apples out of this top - or her bra, for that matter. Nice as it had been for Blanche to shove a hand into her shirt, the event had been soured severely by the fact half their pie had been used as vengeance for the cool whip swirly she’d been giving their twin.

Spark rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, grimacing when the piece of _whatever_ fell to the ground with a gross ’splat’.

“I don’t suppose we could wait until the twins get out of the shower and have them help us clean this, huh?” he said slowly, ruffling his hair and somehow loosening even _more_ crumbs.

“Tempting,” she admitted, sighing, “But we’d be here a while - I think they’re having a hell of a time trying to get all of the crust and pie-goo out of their hair as it is. Besides, this will only get harder as it gets cold.”

“As opposed to the usual hardness.”

Candela glanced his way, scoffing when he had the audacity to winked her. Bless him for his bawdy sense of humor. And yet, she somehow got the sense he might not be joking…

“Some things do get _harder_ with the cold, darling.”

“You would know.”

“I would,” she admitted, humming as she stepped closer to him. It was always difficult to tell when the mood shifted with him. His face was surprisingly difficult to read. “I also know this is going to take a lot of _heavy breathing_ and _hard strokes_ to get it over with.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Mm, we may even need to get into some _interesting_ positions. You know, to make sure we come at it from all angles.”

She wanted to lick the glob of cool whip on his cheek, all the way down to his jaw, give him a pretty little mark right under his ear that no sweater or scarf would be able to hide. His skin would taste just as sweet as apple pie between her teeth - she was sure of it.

“Oh, yes, we’ll have to be _very_ thorough.” Candela crooned, batting her eyelashes flirtily, “Are you sure you’re going to have the stamina?”

Spark smiled and she felt her pulse jump eagerly. “Let’s find out!”

Then he tossed a damp wash rag right at her face.

\---

A camera shutter went off, a chorus of shushing noises rising in retaliation. Noire just shrugged, cheeks warm, making sure to turn the sound off for the next volley of pictures.

“This is too fucking cute,” they whispered, “Like, holy shit.”

Blanche nodded, their eyes equally bright. “This behavior is unexpected, given their interactions earlier.”

“Nah,” Spark said quietly, smoothing out the comforter, wet hair gleaming from the moonlight the balcony doors let in, “The room is dark and a little cold. It’s instinctive.”

“You _would_ say that!” Candela said, rolling her eyes when he grinned.

Dumpling made a tiny noise from the depths of the fur pile, opening one eye and stretching out a paw. Everyone cooed when he snuggled back down, silver fur being hidden by a mash of orange and brown from the two adult females that curled around him. Donglord sniffed, back leg kicking out in his sleep to mash against Blanche’s Vaporeon’s face.

\---

“Quit picking at it!”

Blanche looked up, guiltily moving their fingers away from the section they’d been inspecting. “The weave is off. I think you dropped a stitch.” They immediately regretted those words when Spark pouted at them.

“You come into my house, make a mess, use all the hot water, then have the _gall_ to mock the clothes I let you borrow? Talk about rude and ungrateful!”

“I-”

“ _Technically_ , you’re giving us these crimes against fashion, darling,” Candela said, sipping on some wine she had miraculously been able to procure, “You said so yourself.”

At least her sweater’s inscription made sense - ‘ _Season’s Fireball Shot_ ’ was relevant and amusing. Noire had been smug about theirs being ‘ _Naughty List No. 1_ ’, the punch they’d shot at Spark’s shoulder being decidedly more affectionate than punishing. Not that the bruise that would undoubtedly form from it would know the difference.

Regardless, Blanche did _not_ want to know why he considered them ‘ _The Frenchiest Fry-ar_ ’.

“Yeah, _early_! They were supposed to be a surprise!” Spark waved a hand, gesturing excitedly. “You know, as presents? Tis the season and all that.”

“Well, color me surprised you actually managed to make them,” Noire drawled, struggling to run a brush through their still-damp hair, “So long as you promise to _never_ make a matching pair of pants.”

They’d had to dig through the depths of Spark’s wardrobe to find the very last of his sleeping sweatpants. (Blanche had honestly been surprised their twin found _anything_ \- the man often slept naked, after all.) Candela had just stolen a pair of his boxers and Blanche made due with a pair of his slacks, rolled up to the middle of their calves so they wouldn’t trip on the extra fabric.

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault you guys needed to borrow clothes before I’d done laundry!” Spark said, frowning, “Or the fact you’re all short as hell.”

The brush made a satisfying sound when it smacked into his forehead.

\---

Spark hummed as he finished scrubbing at the last of the pans, water frothy and warm. Not that he could really tell. There was steam and bubbles, anyway. He attributed his current levity to the fact that everyone in his apartment was taken care of and arguably contented. They’d been fed ( _his_ food), bathed ( _his_ shampoo), and were wearing clean clothes ( _his_ clothes).

All of his favorite people ( _possessions_ ) were together and safe...

Fearow speculated that he may have been a Dragon-type in a past life, amusement flickering through them both as he turned off the tap. He jumped when arms suddenly circled his waist, their icy temperature telling who it was more than the instinctive surge of electricity he felt rise within him, Zapdos' reaction answering Articuno’s proximity but not taking over.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Blanche?” he quipped, drying his hands.

“I just realized I never thanked you,” they replied, arms tightening to lock him in place so he could not turn around and face them, burying their face between his shoulder blades. “So… Thank you, Spark.”

He huffed, confused but amused. “For what?”

“For this.”

Spark tilted his head when they didn’t elaborate. He could hear Candela and Noire talking in the living room, cadence lilting and teasing, soft enough that the exact words couldn’t quite be made out - nothing like the heated argument one might expect from leaving those two alone for any amount of time. Candela even laughed, short but bright, at something Noire said and his heart warmed considerably.

He understood, suddenly, smiling as he put a hand over theirs.

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
